


Grubs Clinic

by FreeCatnip329



Series: My Homestuck AUs Reader-Inserts [9]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society (Homestuck), Cute, Doctor - Freeform, Female Reader, Fluff, Grubs (Homestuck), Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Racism, Reader-Insert, Sickfic, Wigglers (Homestuck), pediatrician
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:36:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeCatnip329/pseuds/FreeCatnip329
Summary: (HOMESTUCK AU FEM! READER-INSERT)You know what? Sometimes it seemed to you that you were almost a better psychologist than a pediatrician...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twenty Thousand Miles To An Oasis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177696) by [MooseFeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels). 



> (Homestuck AU Fem! Reader-Insert)
> 
>  
> 
> Please comment and let me know your opinion about this new fanfic :)  
> 

It's cold outside, but the inside of the hospital is warm and cosy; the heating is on inside the waiting rooms and in the clinics, and the windows have been firmly closed since the bad weather began. The rain slowly slides through the fogged windowpanes. Outside, in the streets, people can be seen running, seeking to reach their destination as quickly as possible to escape from the freezing cold.

The hospital is the pride of the city. A serious looking building, neat, perfectly built and with abundant resources. Just perfect for its purpose.

There is a slight peculiar smell in the waiting room; the whole place smells like disinfectant and cleaning products (maybe flowers if one of the nurses has a particularly positive day), but only the children’s area retains that special scent. It smells like colored crayons and birthday chocolate cake: it smells like baby cologne and garden earth. Waxed wooden floors and puddles in the rain. Flowers crowns and wet grass.

For a pediatrician like you, those are both the scents of childhood and those of your day by day.

Speaking of who, at this moment you sit at your work desk, writing files about the last baby you attended on the small computer on your desk. That’s the way it is the place where you work; simple and clean, but as cozy as the little scarce space allows. The walls are white, completely decorated with pictures of your youngest patients (mostly babies and toddlers), and drawings that the older ones give to you. 

In one corner of your work table rests a slightly more unusual decoration: a small robot bunny. An unusual gift from one of your first patients here; it just sits there, motionless (you have a key to wind it in one of your drawers, crammed with paperwork. It's been a long time since you forgot which one was), watching you through those tiny pointed glasses of reddish glass. It is a delicate robotics work, carefully worked over several weeks. Almost the exact same time you had been helping the little boy, at that time just a baby of barely half a year. 

 _Oh, you even still remembered the precise second when you received the gift…_  

He had stood there, in the middle of the room, his countenance frozen in the perfect example of a poker face, while holding a sleepy little baby (your previously mentioned patient) in his arms. _Dear God_ , you could still perfectly remember the way you had laughed when you recognized the exact copy of his anime glasses that the metallic animal wore over his eyes.

That man was definitely not an expert on kids, you had known that from the very first second that he walked through the door, struggling to balance two small babies in his arms. Being of legal age for only a couple of months, seeing the situation in which the older brother was made you wished you could have a 'friendly' conversation with the bastard judge who had given him full custody of his two little brothers (without any kind of economic or social help) after both of their parents died in a car accident.

 _You know what? Sometimes it seemed to you that you were even almost a better psychologist than a pediatrician_.

Actually, if you take the time to think about it, most of your patients problems are usually quite simple; you attend to toddlers who are teething, you give vaccines, and diagnose and help to deal with colds and ear infections. All along with the occasional case of that one child without enough parental surveillance that ends with several pieces of lego stuck in his nose, of course. 

It's… _mostly easy_ , but you can not say that that's exactly what you were expecting after studying medicine for eight years. It's not that you are complaining either; you personally assume that the fewer children with health problems out there, the better for society and, plus, for your daily paperwork.

Precisely at this moment you are fighting against one of those hells of what your daily paperwork consists of, when suddenly the noise catches your attention. It comes from outside, from the waiting room, and it's not exactly normal that there's such a fuss over there, so (for the patients’ safety, and maybe a little of your own medical intuition) you decide to go out and maybe have quick look…

_And then you see her._

She is taller than you, and also quite thin. Your human eyes can clearly see her gray alien skin and huge orange ram horns, even from the door. Her curves are not excessive, but they are still enough to know that you are dealing with an alien female, although the anatomical difference may not be so important right now... She is _nervous_ , defensive; she does not let you notice, but her look give her away.

"Ma'am, you can not be here" a receptionist tries to explain to her. Her tone is perfectly serious and professional, completely empty of life except for the bit of irritation that filters into her voice. She is probably like this because an alien got here in the first place. 

Or course if she refuses to leave, she will call security. Otherwise she will simply throw her out.

That's the way things are with trolls, unfortunately.

"i need help", the alien speaks, ignoring the words of the human. Her voice has a strong accent, something between Asian and Alternian.

You raise an eyebrow.

"i came for help", she continues. For the first time you notice the two little alien babies she carries; the first is on her left shoulder, half hidden in his long wavy mane, and the second is resting in her arms, curled up against her pale hands.

The receptionist frowns, her patience running out for seconds.

"i need help!" The alien repeats, increasing the volume of her voice, almost as if she expects that speaking louder could make this human understand her better. Clearly English is not her strong point.

"I think she may be looking for an asylum", a lady sitting in the waiting room whispers in a not-so-low voice. You hear laughter. The troll frowns, and you bite your lip.

"you can help!" She tries to emphasize; the unconscious movement of her arms as she talks gets the grub she is holding to turn over, and for the first time you notice how heavy her breathing is and the burgundy flush on her cheeks. 

_‘Well, that makes more sense…’_

The employee (who either has not noticed the health condition of the alien baby or, unlike you, does not give a shit) talks again. "I’ll repeat it one last time, ma'am: I’M SORRY, WE-CAN-NOT-HELP-YOU".

You think you  can honestly say that that has been one of the least credible 'I'm sorry' you've heard in your entire life.

All of a sudden the infant in the adult troll's arms moans softly, moving feebly as she tries to get as far away as possible from the loud voice of the human receptionist. 

You know she wouldn’t dare to use that same tone if the problem came from any of the humans… if she just was a human.

There is an look of concern on the face of the female troll as she slowly caresses the grub's small burgundy body reassuringly. The child seems sufficiently pleased by the gesture of affection of her caretaker to slowly lie down in her arms again.

"i'm no fucking deaf," she murmurs, grinding her teeth, though the apparent discomfort of the baby is likely to contribute to her sudden low voice.

"Oh, really?" The human replies. "Are you sure? It’s amazing considering how you do not seem to UNDERSTAND this!”

_‘This is not good.’_

“Look, I feel kind today: if you leave at this moment I promise I will not call the police. A couple of streets down there is a dump, maybe there you can find something of value to pay someone WHO CAN HELP YOU".

_‘This is REALLY not good.’_

The troll frowns even more, if that is still possible. "why are you doing this?". Her tone is noticeably lower, almost as if she was trying to speak to herself. 

The human ignores her.

"The exit is there", she speaks out loud and clear, her hand rising to indicate with a serious gesture the exit door. Probably the same place by which the troll came in first place. 

"Right there".

Of the numerous patients who are sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the turn of their kids or relatives, some begin to whisper about the situation. 

 _"What a lack of manners"_ , an older woman with a baby in her arms comments.

 _"How the hell did they let her in?"_ A middle-aged man next to her asks. 

The alien now looks down at the ground. Her breathing is slow with contained rage, as she squeezes the small alien baby against her chest in a protective way. The whole situation is causing something inside you to start breaking into pieces…

Another lady in the waiting room with two twin toddlers in her arms continues to talk. _"She has probably sneaked inside: that's the only thing they know how to do",_ she makes a gesture of disgust, while the babies in her arms are still sleeping calmly. _"I can’t understand how they still let them enter public places just like that."_

 _"And steal! One of those monsters stole my friend's wallet! And on a bus. A PUBLIC ONE! I do not understand how the government has not yet forbidden them to travel with normal people"_ , one more girl contributes to the discussion.

… Oh fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Fuck your manners! Fuck your job! It is impossible that you can continue to see this without doing anything. It just… _it hurts._

_'Why does it hurts so much?'_

Before you can realize you are no longer at the door, watching from a distance, if not just a few steps from the receptionist and the troll in distress. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe I could be useful here." 

It is impossible that you can stand aside while this happens: you have always had a weak heart for injustices.

_‘... but they say this isn’t an injustice. Don’t they?’_

The thought barely reaches your brain, busy at this moment trying to make you look as professional as possible, and as serious as you can be considering what you're going to do now.

Your phrase soon catches the attention of the two females; both the alien and the human, who so far do not seem to have noticed your presence. The troll turns her gaze towards you, and for a moment her eyes widen, and amazement fills her expression when she notices your hospital uniform. Her mouth opens slightly and, for only a moment, she almost seems _relieved._  

This lasts until the receptionist opens her mouth again, five seconds later.

The young woman seems suddenly so nervous, stammering for the right words, and you can practically see her fear that all this could become a problem in her ‘impeccable’ file.

"B-But, miss (y/n)", she murmurs. "Y-You do not need to be here, I-I'm sure you're busy enough with your daily job to also worry about this..."

You turn your eyes towards the young employee, who visibly shrinks under your gaze. 

"Nonsense", you stop her, doing your best to make your voice sound firm and secure. "I am sure that the other patients won’t mind waiting a little longer to give this lady and her… _descendant_ , a short turn."

One of the ladies who were talking before seems to be  about to make a snarky answer, but her mouth automatically closes when you direct your special 'do-not-fuck-with-the-medical-professional-here' look, suddenly looking as silent and tense as the other persons in the small waiting room.

"Can I see her?", you ask, turning towards the alien, who is still holding the sick grub in her arms "It's okay if you do not want me to do it here… or right now".

She narrows her eyes, still vacillating about her confidence in you. 

The room is silent. 

The sound of rain on the street (outside) is still a murmur that comes through the windows. 

Slowly, she extends the grub towards you. You carefully open your arms and take the little creature, in the same way that you are supposed to pick up a human baby.

She is so _small_ … small and soft. Her grub body is silky and delicate, and it feels a little bit like touching velvet. She is also hot, increasing your suspicions about a possible fever. A high one, in this case.

Slowly your fingers caress one of the multiple legs of the alien baby, earning a soft sound that (you think) might be a giggle. It makes your heart instantly fill with the familiar feeling of tenderness and warmth. 

 _"Hello, little one"_ , you whisper to the wiggler. 

The adult troll watches while you play with the baby; gently moving her tiny insect legs, stroking her long silky locks, and even lifting them (her hair is REALLY long, especially for a grub) to be able to better observe a small pair of ram-looking horns, almost identical to those of the adult troll, on her head. 

Although the confidence is not yet total, there is a visible change between the first human and you. Almost like a small bit of confidence and security in her eyes.

That is another thing that warms your heart.

But when you finally turn your gaze to the receptionist, she seems more irritated than ever before.

"But she's a troll!" She screams, and the smile of tenderness disappears from your face as you see the anger on her eyes. "I bet she do not even have money to pay!" 

She spits a little while speaking. 

… you do not think it's the right time to tell her.

The troll looks at the human with a face like thunder. 

"have money", she says, visibly annoyed. Almost as visible as her lack of experience with English grammar.

"THAT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING! She probably just stole it from someone in the street! That's the only thing those… those MONSTERS know how to do! Damn it, I knew I should have called security when I saw one of them here! I'm going to call the police right now!", she growls, already moving away, when suddenly her body freezes with pure terror…

In less than a second the alien has has taken a sharp knife out of one her dress’ pockets. The silver blade has an almost hypnotic glow when she presses it a few millimeters from the neck of the human, who is suddenly looking as pale as a ghost. 

"do not fuck with me", she whispers.

Terrified screams and exclamations of terror come out of the throats of the other patients, who in a panic try to put as much distance as possible between them and their children, and the adult troll with the knife in her hand. _There are drops of cold sweat falling down your neck…_

"It's okay", you say.

The receptionist looks at you for a moment, looking like she is about to faint. _A bit of confusion. An incredible amount of terror._

"There is no need for violence", you speak clearly, getting a confused look from the alien. 

_‘Fuck. How are you doing this? How is it that you have not fainted yet?’_

"If we needed to reach these consequences for a simple discussion we could have just fix this from the very beginning."

The knife in her hand hesitates. You turn around and walk in direction to the inside of your work room, the drowsy grub still in your arms.

 "What are you waiting for?" You suddenly ask, turning around to look at the female, who is still in the exact same position as before. "Don't you need help?"

The troll looks at you, then at the receptionist, and again at you for a few more seconds, and in the meanwhile you notice a few things. You notice the way she holds the knife in her hand, like someone who hasn’t done something for a long time, but still has too much experience in it. You notice how beautiful is her dress, in contrast to how old and little cared it looks. You notice the fatigue in her face, and the hidden bags under her eyes, in a careful and almost in a professional way.

"It is fine", you slowly offer her your kindest smile. "I'm sure nobody will take this misunderstanding as something personal, at least not while I'm with you."

She blinks. The knife slowly separates from the throat of the terrified receptionist. Step by step, she walks silently behind you. Inside the room. Near the grub.

You inhale and exhale as gently as you can, and keep breathing slowly until the door closes behind you. 

You think about what you just did-

_‘You just entered a room with an alien with a knife (and good knowledge of how to use it), and a sick alien baby... What’s wrong with you?!’_

You wonder why. Why are you interested in her? Why did a troll have to get in today? Why right when _you_ were here?

_You think about the trolls in the streets._

You think about how hungry and cold some of them look, desperate when the police remove them from the places where they sleep in the open because they 'block the way'. About the universal declaration of human rights, about justice, and about the day of the alien invasion.

About the alien children who look through the bars of human schools on cold winter mornings. About the shelters and abandoned houses where they sometimes settle, with holes in the walls and windows, and heat and insects in the summer. About the sick baby in your arms.

You close the door and put the latch.

_‘Well, that at least will keep them from trying anything for a while’_

You turn around and look directly into the adult troll's eyes. 

_Alert._

You frown slightly at how nervous she looks, that expression of pure distrust and fear, frozen in beautiful yellow alien eyes. 

"Over here", you indicate

She just follows you.

* * *

 

The Handmaid observes while the human closes the door with latch, entering the room with the small grub still in her arms.

_Her descendant._

The room is small. She absently looks at it as the click of the latch resonates in through the thin walls.

"Over here", the human says, turning around, a too smile friendly still on her face. 

_Isn’t she tired of pretending?_

She turns again and she follows her silently, the handle of the knife feeling like an almost natural weigh in her hand. A part of her. _An old one._

The white-coated human reaches a stretcher and carefully places the grub (HER grub) there.

The place’s small and silent. The lights are dim and white. The murmur of rain hits the windows. The furniture is painfully neat, in a way that results _almost vaguely familiar…_

The girl opens a briefcase with a small click. She looks inside and pulls out a strange metal instrument, which she gently places on the bare chest of her wiggler.

 _It was dark in that place. Too dark and cold._ **_Too green…_ **

The little wiggler whimpers softly and shakes when she feels the cold of the instrument, which suddenly brings back the adult troll to reality. 

"Shhh…. It's okay, baby", the strange human is whispering. "I know it's cold, but I can not fix that... Just hold on a little bit, okay?”

She signs, looking at her. “What is your name, _sweetheart?_ ".

There is a long pause. Too uncomfortable. The Handmaid does not know what to do: is she talking to the grub? Nobody talks to the grubs. No humans talk to trolls either. 

 _"aradia"_ , she finally murmurs.

_And she smiles._

"Hello, _Aradia_ ", the human doctor greets. 

Yes, she must be talking to her. 

She gently caresses her body and lifts her up, just before she sits her on her arms and pulls out another different instrument that she slowly places on her ears. 

"I'm pretty sure she has a high fever, but I do not think it's anything extremely serious... probably some kind of winter virus."

Suddenly Aradia starts coughing; it is a sore and dry sound, and Damara shakes on the shoulder of the adult troll.

_Concerned._

"So... she also has a dry cough", the human murmurs (apparently, to herself), rubbing the wiggler’s back lightly while she breathes heavily. "A runny nose, fatigue... has she been vomiting?" She asks.

The Handmaid nods slowly. A couple of times. At first it did not seem so bad, just a small cough and she felt a little hotter than usual.

… but then things got worse. 

She was not moving as fast as normally... and then she started vomiting and coughing at night, in her sleep. She would wake up crying and coughing. And crying. And throwing up. A-And… her body also felt really feverish, although she was trembling, even with all her blankets. Her nose was sore and dry from the mucus, and she did not move so much anymore. 

It had started badly, but this was definitely enough: she could not let things get worse...

 _She could not lose her._  

_Never._

The female human throws into the wastebasket the thin wooden instrument with which she has been examining the grub's throat and mouth. She removes the thin blue rubber gloves from her hands and gently picks up the grub, handing it slowly to her. 

"It's... a 'flu'", she explains. "... It's not _so bad_ , but she'll need to lower her fever as quickly as possible... I recommend resting and making her drink a lot of liquid, no solid food or anything hard to digest for her during the next three or four days".

She goes to her desk and open a drawer. The troll raises an eyebrow as she pulls out a small bottle of reddish liquid. 

 **'I-N-F-A-N-T-S   T-Y-L-E-N-O-L’.**  

She reads the human letters in front of the bottle one by one.

"This is a medication for human babies, but she can also take it. I'm going to write you the right doses on a piece of paper so you do not have to consult a pharmacy...", the weird human murmurs, writing something down with a blue pen on a small piece of paper, which she hands over with the bottle.

"You also have there my private phone number, in case you have any doubts", she shyly adds, her tone of voice descending each second. The adult troll can feel her confidence diminishing little by little… _Getting scared of her._

 "A-And... if you want my advice... I would use the backdoor, i-it’ll be _less noticeable..._ "

The troll snatches the bottle from her hands and murmurs a sharp 'thank you' in broken English.

Although the troll does not know if she gets to hear it, it doesn't matter.

She opens the door and directs one last look at her, before closing it with a loud bang.

_She really expects that shit to work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THIS CHAPTER WAS INSPIRED BY THE FOLLOWING FANART:**
> 
> http://img1.reactor.cc/pics/post/MS-Paint-Adventures-%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%B7%D0%BD%D0%BE%D0%B5-Homestuck-The-Sufferer-1708701.png
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

The troll leaves and you wobble. You walk hesitantly to the nearest wall, and then slide straight to the ground. 

The room is familiar to you at this time, even after the only three months you have been working here. It is actually pretty good that you feel comfortable in the place, because otherwise you are pretty damn sure that you would already be in the middle of a panic attack at the least. 

_‘God, not that. Anything but that.’_

Breathing deeply, you try to stabilize yourself. 

The drops of rain falling outside are still a murmur that comes through the thin walls.

  You make an extra effort to try to relax and your head stops spinning for just a few seconds. 

Sometimes your instinct makes you do strange things, and having a big heart for others doesn’t really help much. 

You can do many things; you can learn whole chapters of entire medical texts just by reading them two or three times. You can comfort and encourage patients of all kinds, you can know how tense a person is just by looking her in the eyes. 

… other simpler, more 'normal' things… Well, those can be more complicated for you.

You have never been able to speak in front of a public without getting extremely nervous, or to behave appropriately in a formal event. You can not be the first to speak in a debate without start stuttering so much that it's absolutely impossible to understand you. You can not dance with someone in public either. You're good at following the rhythm at parties or social events, but it's exhausting. Too much constant attention and forced smiles and uncomfortable chats with strangers, and things to watch at the same time.

Wasted energy and stressful experiences, in your opinion.

You have... _‘wasted’_ your energy and time in useless things many times throughout all your life; in solitary nights of study and insomnia, and others of uncomfortable parties full of drunk teens, and your long shifts of simple work in cold and silent hospitals. Just like the one you have here. 

_Well... you usually have here._

… sometimes you think you are still in time. You think you still could forget everything and let yourself go; you could ignore the injustices of this world and simply continue with your work like everyone else, or forget about everything and spend your free time alone, in some deserted bar each night, like so many people you have called 'friends' throughout your long student life.

_‘Wait… No.’_

By this moment your head is not spinning so much, and the nausea of nervousness in your stomach has faded slightly. Enough for you to realize what you're thinking and instantly erase those thoughts from your mind. Never. That would be like abandoning yourself to the mercy of society: _simply stupid._

The white wall on which you lean feels incredibly cold despite the general warmth of the room. The silence is remarkable, so much so that you can still perfectly hear your nervous and accelerated breathing as if it were the clearest thing in the whole world. This silent atmosphere continues until you hear the small creak of the door of the room opening, and the still-pale face of the receptionist pokes in, asking if you are fine with a voice that you can barely understand through beating of your dizzy head.

You hardly find the strength to get up and nod slightly.

* * *

 

Aradia fever goes down soon after.

This human medicine is strange... but it is working. First the fever went down and then the cough started to improve, and then she started eating again. Now she does not feel so hot anymore, and for the first time in a really time she is starting to play and laugh, and she looks happy. And for the first time since everything started she seems _fine_. 

_Really fine._

Aradia had never been sickly before; she would have scratches, she would have wounds from playing outside, in the earth that she loved so much since she first heard the human word 'archaeologist'. Dear ‘Gog’! It had only taken ONE of those human stories about rescuers and treasures, and hidden palaces and powerful enemies, and she had gotten that special glow in her eyes that had not disappeared since then.

 The Handmaid really expected her to change over time and maybe choose something to do that was easier… Something _further away_ from humans…

_But then she saw her playing and squealing and rolling between dirt and rocks, and suddenly everything changed._

Now she does not look the same as before, but she's definitely much better. And if that means that the medicine is working and that she needs to go back to that place and threaten another idiot and rude human to get more and keep her healthy, then she is more than willing to do it.

_Still... somehow… that doesn’t feel right._

And that scares the Handmaid.

The adult troll has been looking at the paper that the human gave her from the moment she began giving the medicine to Aradia. She is not sure why she really gave her her phone number, but there it is, and she has it. She is sitting in the room where she and Aradia and Damara sleep, in the simple and cheap rental house they share with other trolls without a better place to go, looking at it. Watching it. 

It’s kinda like a memory: a trace of doubt that reminds her that the human really _helped her_. Not pretended. Helped.

Not that she is proud of having to use the knife on the other human, but the thing is, that girl was a bitch, and she has had enough bad experiences with humans to not be able to stand them anymore. She knows how dangerous they can be sometimes, but the girl did not seem dangerous. In fact if something she thinks she looked more like a fuckass. 

The human in the white coat, on the other hand… She was _different._

There was something in the way that she spoke; clearly too nervous, but struggling to hold herself and still do it... that made her _odd..._ but strangely interesant at the same time.

The adult troll carefully holds the small paper with the human phone number scribbled in dark blue. 

_Doubtful. Distrustful. Confused._

"くそ _(fuck)_ ", she mutters, for once without worrying about what she says or how fucking strange she must be sounding. It's not the first time she thinks about that, and it's not the first time she does not know what to do either. 

Maybe she could ignore everything and hope things keep going well... 

Maybe... she could... _Call her…_

The Handmaid blinks slowly, alien eyes of dark burgundy irises looking through the dim light of the small room, as she raises her head to look at its old walls of worn paint for a moment. 

_Determinated._

She needs to talk with that human soon.


	3. Chapter 3

A week after the incident, the rainy weather is finally starting to stop and you are baking some cookies during a quiet, work-free afternoon.

Cooking is not your favorite hobby, but at a time like this; peaceful and with nothing better to do, any activity is welcome in your humble home. In addition, have cookies has never hurted anyone as far as you know, and they usually come in handy to encourage you if you have a bad day... or to give to someone who has had one. Cooking also generally helps calm you down.

Carefully, you separate the cookie dough in small portions and make balls with them using your fingers. You take your time to feel the soft dough under the palms of your hands, before putting them back on the tray; mass dough is delicate and a little sticky, probably one of the softest things you've ever touched in your life, and it feels strangely relaxing when you squeeze it between your hands. The smell is also a delight, if it is polite that you praise your own cooking.

The area of pediatrics of the hospital seems to be returning to normal since ‘the mishap'. Luckily, it seems that the whole affair has remained as just a simple anecdote, with some rumors among the usual patients. You don’t really care if this ends in your file (you don’t really care about almost anything that has to do with your file), but it would be a shame if people stopped bringing their sick kids to the hospital just for a little confusion like this.

Outside, it's still cold. Soon the little rain that persists will cease, and the only precipitations will be the occasional winter snowfall, very appreciated by the local young children. The air will remain cold and fresh, and all the grass in the parks will be covered by a thin layer of snow. 

You stop your task for a moment and look absently through a window; yep, everything is still as silent and cold as before.

You move away, and you’re about to put the tray with the cookies in the oven, when suddenly the sound of your mobile phone from the living room makes you leave your own head.

"Shit!" You mutter under your breath, closing the oven and adjusting the temperature as fast as you can. "Hold on a minute!!"

_ 'As if the phone could hear you...' _

You run to the bathroom and turn on the water, quickly washing your (s/c) hands, at the moment covered with sticky cookie dough, sugar and flour (and of course all this also has to be spilled on the apron you're wearing). 

When you finally return to the room (running and still drying your wet hands on your clothes) you almost trip over your own feet in an effort to grab your mobile as fast as possible, which luckily is still ringing.

Quickly recovering from your trip, you have just enough time to take a quick look at the screen (unknown number) before picking up. 

"Hello?" You greet, still unsure of who you are talking to.

"..." there is a short silence on the other side of the telephone line. 

_ ‘Is this a joke or something? ‘ _

_ "uh, hi..." _ And suddenly a vaguely familiar voice reaches your ears, in a rather confused tone.

The memories flow to your mind at record speed. 

"Oh, it's just you", you say, just before suddenly realizing how disinterested that phrase may have sounded. "Is something wrong? Isn’t Aradia improving?" You try to fix the situation, although the name of the little grub sounds strange pronounced by you: a human. 

… the troll's voice before sounded so uncomfortable,  _ so out of place… _

You really didn’t expect her to call you, and something tells you she did not expect to do it either.

There is another long silence (you could almost bet she isn’t very used to phone calls), and finally her voice makes an appearance again  _ "... no, she better". _

You smile a little:  _ you almost forgot how her English sounded like. _

"What good news!" You pause, not quite sure whether to continue. "Is there any reason why you called me?  _ … do you need something?" _

_ "i..." _ you hear as she mumbles, probably trying to put the words together through that strong accent of her, you think.  _ "i wanted know if she is going be okay," _ she says.

You raise an eyebrow and your freshly washed hands caress your phone's case nervously. 

_ ‘Is she talking seriously?’ _

 … you already knew that the public medical system in Alternia was a bit... well, non-existent. But you definitely did NOT expect this. Does she really not know what to do? Is she really so worried about her to call you? 

_ ‘YOU? A human?’ _

Wow, that's... deep. And flattering, in a way.

You sigh slowly, trying to think of a way to respond to the female clearly, but at the same time without causing the alien ancestor's panic.

"Does she still have a fever?" You ask.

_ "no", _ she responds, still visibly hesitant about speaking on the human device.  _ "no now". _

"Has she been vomiting or not eating lately?"

Another pause. 

_ "no", _ her voice is a little more firm and secure this time. 

"Then she'll be fine", you respond with a small smile, although it's impossible for her to notice that over the phone. "It should also be fine for her to stop taking the medicine, if she has not already done so, now that her fever lowered", you add in a kind tone.

_ "understand" _ . She is... still short of words, as you think almost seems to be a characteristic feature in the adult troll.

You smile again. "I'm glad she's better now", your voice is genuinely kind and warm, enough to help relieve the little tension that is still in the situation.

There is another prolonged silence, and then your ears take a few seconds to fully understand the next sentence. 

_ "... どうもありがとうございました (... thank you very much)". _

"Uh... I'm sorry?" You murmur, more confused than before. Was that Alternian? No, that sounded...  _ stranger? _

The laughter of the troll sounds soft and sweet through the telephonic line, just as innocent and carefree like that of a little girl. Your chest tickles a bit.

_ "thank you", _ she says, and maybe it's your imagination, but she sounds...  _ kinda happier. "that means." _

"Oh", you say, and some shame seeps into your voice and and blush your cheeks. "I'm sorry", you laugh softly, accompanying the joy of the troll.

_ "no problem",  _  the alien says, really sounding much more relaxed than at the beginning of the call  _ "another thing... i... have something to ask". _

You feel slightly confused. 

"... of course, what do you need?" You ask, still a little distrustful about what this complete unknown alien with whom you are talking on the phone-

_ ‘and who you've only seen once in person’  _

-and who you’ve only seen once in person, may ask you.

_ "need human doctor, again," _ she explains. And, as if it were a warning signal, a frenzy of worried thoughts run to your mind in a second: is she hurt? Or sick? Maybe she knows someone who is?

The troll continues with her wobbly explanation. 

_ "more sick grubs here...", _ she makes longer pauses as her words become more complicated human vocabulary.  _ "have fiend... uh, 'friend'... he needs help too... with… w-with his". _

Of the scarce information that you can get out of that phrase, most seems quite worrying, and a small part makes you wonder about the quality of life that she, Aradia and her other grub have.

It's really hard to make your voice not to sound very concerned the next time you speak, but your natural medical instinct helps in the task. "So... you want me to check him and try to fix him?" You carefully ask.

_ "yes" _ , the troll's phrase is short, but still determined.  _ "you will do?" _

It takes you about 20 seconds to think about the idea, its pros and cons, and the possible dangers that you are getting into by responding affirmatively, before (no less hesitant than before) talking to the troll of Asian features again. 

"Ok... I think... I think I can try to do a quick free medical check-up... and perhaps prescribe him something to help", you murmur, hoping that that will please the female's request (and praying that whatever that grub needs, you can get it without having to steal medical supplies from the hospital). "Uh... maybe I can see you, him and the grubs at my house after my shift is over next week?"

This, indeed, seems to please the troll.  _ "perfect", _ she replies.  _ "on... ‘tueday’?" _

Her pronunciation is quite irregular and, frankly, maybe even a bit disastrous when she says the day of the week, but you think it's better do not correct her at the moment.

"Sure", your voice seems momentarily confident again. "Wait, I'll give you my address..." you murmur, but you're suddenly interrupted by her.

_ "not necessary" _ , she slowly explains. " _ know where human doctor lives". _ Wow, she really tells it like it’s perfectly natural for her to know where you live.

"Wh-What?" 

Well, NOW you are clearly confused. "H-How did you...?" You start questioning, but you're interrupted for a second time by the rust-blood alien.

_ "have contacts" _ , she simply responds, once more with that strange naturalness that makes her voice confident and dangerous at the same time.  _ "see on tueday, afternoon. goodbye."  _

The farewell is so extremely fast that you stay with your mouth open, your own surprised  _ 'goodbye' _ stuck in your throat, while the sound of the hanged call echoes in your ears. 

Suddenly the pronunciation of the word 'Tuesday' does not seem so important…

What the hell have you just got into?


	4. Chapter 4

When the Handmaid ends the call and leaves the bedroom, a troll is sitting in the living room, watching thoughtfully while a few grubs play on the carpet. They are rolling and chasing each other, and shrieking and laughing excitedly on the old rug.

The aforementioned female troll slowly slides her gaze from the wigglers to her, and her jade-iris eyes hold a peaceful and soothing look for a moment, as they watch hers. And then she  _ starts smiling _ , in that strange way that  _ only she does… _

"Aradia Seems To+ Be Much Better", she begins; careful, slow, as if she has calculated every word. "I'm Glad So+. Yo+u Also+ Are Lo+o+king Mo+re Relaxed."

The rust-blood shrugs.

"yeah... i think so", she answers, perhaps tense, but for once not worried about her vocabulary nor her way of speaking. Just another benefit of talking with the Dolorosa. "the others doing well, too?" she calmly asks the troll rainbow drinker.

The old troll nods and directs a watchful look at the grubs, who are still rolling on the old wooden floor; some playing with the carpet, and others happily squeaking each other. 

"They've Been Like This Fo+r A While", she comments softly, and a small maternal smile sets in her face just as one of the jade-blood grubs (the older of the two) crawls with her little insect legs onto the part of the carpet near her and gently scratches her shoe. She laughs and bends to pick her up, gently placing her on her lap. "It's Been A While Since We Go+t A Visito+r...". 

_ Her murmurs are still as soft as her speech. _

One of the Handmaid's eyebrows rise. "so?" She asks. 

It does not take long for the other troll to answer, still staring at the little grub on her legs, whose hair she is carefully combing with her delicate gray hands. "Yo+u Talked A Lo+t To+ The Summo+ner Yesterday When He Came..." The Dolorosa whispers, a slight worried tone filtering into her normally relaxed voice. "It's Strange Fo+r Yo+u To+ Talk So+ Much."

She keeps a neutral face and looks away. "it was nothing", she affirms, gathering most of her human vocabulary. She bends down to pick up her own two grubs from the ground, without looking at the female. "you don’t have to worry". 

The jade-blood would probably be glad for her obvious improvement in the human language, if it weren’t for her current concern.

The Dolorosa feels quite tempted to raise an eyebrow, but she doesn’t. The Handmaid knows because the way her frown wrinkles a little. Instead, she just looks at the female troll in the old green dress for a few seconds and sighs, giving up. Then she quickly glances at the rest of the grubs that are still playing on the carpet and continues. "If Yo+u Say So+..."

The Handmaid caresses the two grubs in her legs without paying much attention.

"Are Yo+u Sure Yo+u're O+kay?", the rainbow drinker finally asks, after a few seconds of silence.

"why you say that?" The other troll questions. Her left hand unconsciously picks up one of her two grubs, who seems to keep trying to move out of her lap quite frantically, for some reason…

"Because Yo+u Just Picked Meulin And Nepeta Up", she answers. "And Yo+u Were So+ Fo+cused O+n No+t Lo+o+king At Me That Yo+u Didn't Even No+tice".


	5. Chapter 5

Aradia stands on the carpet, playing with the other grubs.

It's pretty nice to be able to play again without feeling bad. It's also nice to be able to sleep through the night without waking up feeling that she can not breathe, or that her guts are going to come out through her mouth at any second. 

It is good that that doesn't happen anymore either.

She thinks it's nice to feel good:  _ to be good.  _

She's better now, and that means she can play again; playing definitely feels better than resting, now that she really can do it without feeling nauseous every time she moves.

She is not sure of what was that strange place where they took her, or what was what they gave her, but it was not exactly  _ bad...   _ The memories are blurred in her young head, but they almost seem even friendly. 

_ Like those two hands caressing her and playing with her hair.  _

_ And it was warm, and nice, and… _

The little grub interrupts her thoughts as Damara approaches her. She crawls on the carpet and stands next to her, her soft black hair gently caressing her face. It feels soft and warm, and _ loving _ ... Not too warm or uncomfortable as before, if not friendly and happy,  _ and that's good. _

She doesn’t remember very well when all of this started, but she really hopes it does not happen again.

Things are too good now for it to happen again.

* * *

 

You wake up the next morning and everything seems normal; the air is cold, it has not yet dawned, there is some snow in your backyard and yesterday's phone conversation is just a vague memory in the back of your head. 

You get up and take a shower, you dress, make your breakfast, brush your teeth with the strong mint toothpaste that was 50% off at the supermarket, and finally make sure you're ready for the hard morning of work. With your current positive mood, you can’t even resist taking a second look in the bathroom mirror before leaving.

_ ‘Not bad’, _ you think. That means it's going to be a  _ good day _ , one of those few positive mornings you have from time to time thanks to some strange miracle from heaven.

You arrive early to the hospital, and have a little time to prepare yourself before starting the work of the day. Then you start by updating the records and let the patients in one by one.

Speaking of which, you must not have attended more than five people when a young couple enters with a baby of just over two years; they should be almost newlyweds, and yet their baby seems quite developed for his age. There are terribly serious expressions on their faces. They seem distrustful, in a way that you _ definitely _ would not describe as positive or kind.

… you know the people who come to the hospital too well. You know the parents who would blindly believe anything that someone in a white coat would tell them, and you know those who really respect the profession of pediatrician. You also know these people.

_ These people are not going to be easy to help. _

"Good morning", the man starts. "We come for a checkup."

You offer them a smile. "Great, just let me update your record with a few questions and we can start", you say, as kind as you can be.

The woman starts squinting at you while you type on the computer, her husband answering the questions you ask him about the baby. She is blonde, still young but with more wrinkles than she should have at her age. She raises an eyebrow when she looks at you, and suddenly interrupts the conversation.

"Excuse me, Dr..." It takes her 10 exact seconds to look at your full name on the small sign above the desk. "Dr. (l/n). But we have heard you have recently been attending... _'peculiar patients’._ Is that true?"

 There is a audible accusing tone at the end of her sentence.

You tilt your head, pretending confusion. "If you allow me to ask", you start, with all the education you can have in this situation "What do you mean by 'peculiar'?"

The woman frowns and her husband seems about to stop her, but doesn’t talk in time. 

"Trolls", she says, without abandoning that acute accusing tone of hers. "Trolls who live in the streets".

"I do not know if they live on the street", you reply, strangely confident. "But I have treated a troll recently, yes. Well, actually her grub"

Her eyes widen and it almost seems as if you had slapped her hard across the face. "How dare you?! Do you intend that people like MY BABY have to be treated in the same place where those  _ dirty things _ go?"

Now it's you who frowns. "Excuse me, miss", you try to maintain your composure "But I can not understand what the difference is".

"WHAT?!" 

_ ‘Well, now she definitely IS furious’  _

"Those are ANIMALS, they should not even be here!"

You swallow.

"Are you sure you're not getting confused? I'm pretty sure those 'animals' are far more educated than you being now."

The lady's face turns as red as a tomato in a matter of pure seconds. "You know I can talk to your boss, don’t you?" 

You think that the sound of her teeth chattering might be heard from the next room.

You finally nod. "Perfectly, miss."

If you have ever seen someone so purely angry in your entire life, it is this woman. "Let's go, honey", she immediately says, getting up and pulling her husband, who still carries the baby in his arms.

"But, Barbara", he begs, trying to stop his wife, with no results.  _ "... honey, please..." _

In less than five seconds she has dragged them both to the door. "This WILL NOT be the last time you hear about me", she growls, just like a wild dog showing her bare fangs, and slams the door shut.

You look at them as they leave.

_ ‘Since when did you became a defender of trolls?’ _

_ You know this is not going to be good. _

You turn around for a moment, closing the half-completed record of the computer.

_ This is not good now. _


End file.
